Playing With Fire
by dollyhazed
Summary: Andrea, a Gotham City News intern, finds herself inexplicably involved with the Joker after he makes a personal delivery to the station. Set during TDK.
1. Chapter 1

After a long summer of nerve wracking interviews and drawn-out paper work, I had finally started my internship at Gotham City News. I was in the final stretch of my undergraduate degree in Media and Film at the University of Gotham and only needed this internship to satisfy my graduation requirements. Luckily for me, the internship was paid and typically meant I had a full-time job lined up almost as soon as I walked off of the commencement stage, diploma in hand.

So far, the majority of my time was spent completing menial tasks or merely observing the camera operators, editors, and goings on behind the scenes. But, every once in a while I managed to find myself in my element amongst the crew in the production control room. With that said, I didn't necessarily get free range, but I did get to tinker with the audio console and video switcher, with supervision of course.

But today was different, and it was either pure luck, or maybe my misfortune that I was left to myself in the main control room, completely alone amidst a sea of monitors, tempted by the endless buttons and switches. To preface this a little more, I had been instructed to be at the studio a few hours early before almost everyone had arrived in order to go over controls without being in the way of the functioning news crew. In fact, the only other person there with me was my direct supervisor and internship instructor, Kathy. Kathy, one to never trust me alone, had excused herself for a personal phone call and asked if I would be alright by myself. Of course I said yes! Not only did I want to show her that I was capable of handling myself in a professional manor, I also just wanted to be inside the room to investigate everything without her micromanagement.

I pushed myself along the switchboards on a rolling chair and softly traced my fingers over the controls in admiration. The soundproofing in the room made it eerily silent as I happily maneuvered myself around.

I was fiddling with a knob when the door to the small room burst open. Startled, I spun around in my seat and an apology for screwing around when I shouldn't be was already forming on my lips. Before I could fumble out two words, I stopped myself. A man stood in the doorway, one I could not recognize, but one who was not yet altogether unfamiliar. He had on a black baseball cap over unruly blonde hair and wore a black hooded sweatshirt and black jeans. I noted something was strange about his face, but he was across the room from me and the cap offered a concealing shadow. We stared at each other for what seemed like forever before I managed to squeak out a "hello". He tilted his head slightly while not breaking eye contact.

"Hi" he replied slowly, unnecessarily dragging out the word. Something about his voice disquieted me immediately. It was somehow simultaneously high and low pitched, and distinctly nasally. I shifted uncomfortably in my seat and broke eye contact to glance nervously behind him at the door.

 _Where the hell is Kathy?_

I reluctantly looked back to the mysterious, looming stranger in the doorway and to my dismay, his eyes again locked immediately with mine. I tried to swallow the lump in my throat.

"C-can I help you with something?" I croaked. My shaking voice exposed my unease and I scolded myself internally.

He said nothing in return but instead took several slow but deliberate steps in my direction. I remained glued to my seat, my back pressing firmly against the chair in an effort to distance myself in the subtlest way. I averted my gaze to the floor and my stomach churned in apprehension. I watched as his feet came to a stop mere inches in front of me. Somehow I managed to tilt my head up to see him tower over me predatorily. I felt small and meek, like his next meal. Now fully illuminated, my eyes scanned over his face and I instantly froze when I realized that what seemed odd about his face from a distance was now clear to me.

Scars.

Deep, ragged scars ravaged the otherwise smooth skin on either side of his mouth. Although they appeared to have been healed for years, their jaggedness was disturbing. My eyes only hesitated on them for a moment, but when I again met his stare, I knew he noticed. His eyes flickered from my gaze to my chest and back. I could feel my face burning, a side effect of my nervousness and a hint of embarrassment.

"You might wanna, uh, give this to your boss…Andy." He handed me a sealed envelope but I couldn't think much beyond the fact that this stranger had just uttered not just my name, but my nickname. I held the envelope tightly in my hands as he turned on his heels and stalked back towards the door. He was halfway out of the room when I found my voice.

"I'm sorry, do you work here?" I blurted, my words steeped with confusion and possibly irritation. He stopped and back peddled a few steps, half turning towards me from the doorway.

"No, girly. I'll see ya around."

And then he was gone.

 _I'll see ya around._ His statement echoed in my mind. I tried to brush it off but he was so strange and unsettling that the though of "seeing him around" had me rethinking ever leaving my apartment again.

I waited for what I'm sure was a few minutes but what felt like hours before I finally stood and carefully approached the door. My heart was hammering wildly against my chest with each step I took closer to the door. I held my breath as I peered quickly into the hallway. The hall was dimly lit, but, luckily, empty. I sighed and leaned against the doorway. My legs shook uncontrollably. Never in my life had I met a stranger that had been so intimidating with such little effort.

My shuddering breath was the only noise to cut through the tension filled silence and I became acutely aware of my loneliness. Unsurprisingly, the notion of being alone in the control room no longer held the interest it once had.

I remembered the package he had handed me and I glanced down. I held in my sweaty hand a small yellow envelope and quickly noted the messy red ink scrawled across the front. It read "Are You The Real Batman?" Goosebumps erupted across the skin on my arms. I was done waiting for Kathy.

I tore out of the studio and down the hall like a bat out of hell. I shouted Kathy's name and headed left around a narrow corner before slamming into another body cloaked in shadow. I crashed to the ground clumsily and threw the envelope on the way down. I scurried to my knees in a panic and wined when I saw who it was.

Kathy glared at me from her position on the floor. She straightened her glasses before she addressed me.

"Andrea, what the HELL is your problem?" She was seething with anger as she got on her knees and started to gather the papers that had chaotically rained down upon us moments earlier. I watched her grab the envelope.

"I am so, _so_ sorry Kathy, honestly. I was just trying to find you in a hurry because a _super_ creepy guy came into the control room when you were gone and h-"

"Wait, what? A man came into the control room?" She looked at me, incredulous. "No one is here, Andrea. It's just us for the nest hour, at least." I could tell by the tone in her voice that she didn't believe me, and that pissed me off.

"Yeah, well, I don't know what to tell you then because a man really did come into the control room. He was tall and wearing all black and he had these scars..." I reached my hand up and touched my face face where the marks had been. Kathy stared at me like I had totally lost my mind. I dropped my hands to my sides. "Anyway, he gave me that envelope you're holding." I pointed at the package in question resolutely. "He told me to give it to my boss, so there you go," I huffed, making no effort to hide my annoyance, and turned away from her.

My attention turned to a small rectangular piece of plastic at my feet and I peeled it off of the dirty floor. I flipped it over in my sweaty palm and my own name stared back at me. _Ha,_ m _y nametag._ I assumed it had somehow ripped off during the collision. As I worked at pinning it back to my top, it finally dawned on me.

 _That's how he knew my name._ I felt instant relief wash over me, realizing he didn't actually know me at all and I chided myself for thinking he was checking me out when he looked at my chest.

I turned my attention back towards Kathy in time to notice her raise her left eyebrow quizzically at me.

"He gave you this to give to me?" she asked, her words dripping in skepticism.

"Yes."

I could tell she still didn't believe that someone delivered it to me when I was alone for 10 minutes, but she also didn't hesitate in tearing it open. I don't think she even read what was written on it before she pulled out a small black jump drive from the envelope and twirled it around between her well manicured fingers.

"Well, lets see what's on it, then."


	2. Chapter 2

(Authors Note: I know, I know…for the sake of artistic license, let's just pretend that Mike Engel in the movie doesn't say that the Joker's tape was found on the body of the dead fake Batman. I haven't watched the movie in a while, so please forgive any other major oversights. Also, I'm sorry that this chapter is kind of just filler. There are much more exciting things to come!)

Kathy briskly led me back into the control room and my legs still trembled as I trailed closely behind her. She shut the door behind me and took her seat in front of one of the many large Mac computers along the back wall of the room. I pulled up a chair beside her and watched in frustration as she struggled to blindly plug the USB drive into the back of the monitor. I sighed in annoyance and she shushed me before finally slipping the drive into the right slot. An icon popped open on the screen and my heart rate accelerated. A folder entitled "HaHAhAHahaHA" was the only thing on the USB.

"What the…" Kathy grumbled and turned to look at me. We made eye contact and I simply shrugged my shoulders.

"Open it."

Kathy double clicked the folder and revealed a single video file. The file wasn't named, but the thumbnail was startling. The frozen image of a monster stared back at me. The image was a bit fuzzy and blurred, but I could see everything clear enough. His eyes were pitch black holes and his face was caked in what appeared to be cracked and spotty white paint, yet somehow this was far from the most unsettling part of the image. It was his mouth that I couldn't tear my eyes from, stretched wide open in a horrifying smile with lips sloppily painted bright scarlet red, decorating the gruesome scars that crawled up from the corners of his mouth.

 _The scars._

My jaw dropped. This was the man from before, the man who had come into the studio and given me _this_. I could never mistake those scars, the scars that marred his face and twisted up his cheeks angrily. I wanted desperately to tell Kathy that this was the man from before, but I couldn't find my voice before she found the play button.

"Tell them your name." A voice croaked from behind the camera as the footage rolled. A man dressed as the Batman sat on a cement floor in the middle of the shot. His hands seemed to be tied behind his back. Carcasses of skinned and butchered cattle or some other livestock hung sinisterly behind him.

"Brian." the fake batman's voice trembled and I looked toward Kathy nervously, who couldn't tear her eyes away from the screen. I felt sick to my stomach as the footage rolled on.

The man behind the camera, the one who I was lucky enough to personally meet, giggled and my skin crawled.

"Are you the real Batman?" He asked, tauntingly. The camera shook wildly and he moved closer to the slouched, pathetic looking figure.

"No." Brian replied softly and my stomach twisted painfully in sympathy.

"No?"

"No."

"Then why do you dress up like him?" The cameraman ripped off Brian's mask, a replica of the one the Batman wears, and dangled it in front of him, laughing and mocking him.

"It's a symbol that we don't have to be afraid of scum like you." Brian spat.

The camera came close to Brian's exposed face and the cameraman's gloved hand snaked around the man's neck and gripped onto his face roughly.

"Yeah, you do, Brian. You _really_ do."

His hand slithered up his face and gripped onto his hair, yanking Brain's head back. He softly whimpered and the cameraman stroked his face and shushed him in mock affection.

Kathy turned to me suddenly, her face ghostly pale and her eyes wide with concern. "You should go, Andrea. You shouldn't be seeing this." I gawked at her, my eyes shifting between her and the screen.

"I'm not going anywhere, Kathy. Are you kidding? I'm not lea-" I was cut off by the booming voice from the screen.

"LOOK. AT. ME" the cameraman thunderously growled from behind the lens and I jerked my head back toward the video. I felt like my heart would beat out of my chest, my eyes started to tear and my throat burned.

The camera turned around and we were met with the same image from the thumbnail. The mad man seemed to speak directly to us.

"See this is how crazy Batman's made Gotham. You want order in Gotham? Batman must take off his mask and turn himself in. Oh, and everyday he doesn't, people will die. Starting tonight. I'm a man of my woor _d_."

The camera shook violently as he started to laugh. The picture began to break up and we could hear Brian's desperate screams off screen-screams that seemed to echo in my ears long after the video had stopped.

Kathy and I sat in silence, my hands gripping, white-knuckled, onto the arms of the chair in which I sat. My mouth hung open in shock and horror and a few stray tears tumbled down my cheeks. Kathy slowly turned toward me and I met her gaze with apprehension.

"Give me your phone."

I paced back and forth in the dim hallway outside the control room as Kathy spoke to police. My legs still felt like Jell-o and I walked unsteadily, but I was anxious and when I'm anxious I have to move. By now a few people had come into the station and had crowded around the control room door, talking amongst themselves, whispering guesses to each other about why the city police were there. I was mostly invisible to these people before this, so no one really noticed me lurking around in the hall, or bothered to ask me if I knew anything.

A policeman suddenly swung open the control room door, ushering the small crowd of people away from the entryway. I stopped pacing and watched him scan the crowd before his eyes settled on me.

"You." he pointed at me "You can come in now. We're ready for your statement."

I felt the burning gaze of the crowd as they likely were seeing me for the first time. I heard one woman, a camera woman, ask in a hushed voice "Who's she?" as I hurried by. The policeman, a tall and handsome man, moved out of the way to allow me to walk in before closing the door tightly behind him.

As I reentered the room that I'm sure will be the setting of many of my forthcoming nightmares, I immediately made eye contact with a gentle-looking, bespectacled older man. He had greying brown hair and a moustache, which matched. I immediately noticed the badge on the arm of his brown jacket.

"Miss Perkins," He smiled a half-hearted smile, an attempt to make me feel comfortable, I'm sure. "I'm Lieutenant Jim Gordon," He motioned to shake my hand and I reached to reciprocate. "Are you ready to tell us what happened?"

I nodded nervously and he motioned for me to sit in the same rolling chair I occupied not 30 minutes earlier. Kathy was still in the room when I came in, but the same officer who escorted me in, now escorted her out. She made eye contact with me and smiled encouragingly before the cop led her out the door, through the gathering crowd in the hall, and out of sight.

I sat down and the Lieutenant also sat directly across from me. I felt slightly more at ease already. He folded his hands in his lap and leaned in. Another policewoman I hadn't noticed before stood to the side with a note pad, ready to make notes.

"Start from the beginning."

I cleared my throat noisily and wiped away the nervous sweat that gathered on my upper lip before I started. I was actually unsure if the Lieutenant had watched the video before this interview, but I assumed he had. My recollection began with the delivery, when the man from the video had come in and left me feeling shaken. I described him as well as I could, remembering his stringy blonde hair and his shadowy face, and the scars…

"Did he say anything to you?"

"Um…" I paused, "Yes. He said "you should give this to your boss" or something like that. He also said he would see me around."

"He said he would see you around?"

"Yes. And he knew my name…because of my nametag."

"Hmm…" The Lieutenant looked to the policewoman to his left then back to me. "Continue."

I told him everything I could remember, from crashing into Kathy in the hall, to watching the video. I shrugged my shoulders when I was done, "I guess that's it."

"Miss Perkins, have you watched the news lately?"

I scoffed at him. Was he serious? I interned at a news station, the number one news station in Gotham, of course I had watched the news lately.

"Yes, I've watched the news lately." I tried not to sound arrogant.

"Then you know about the Joker."

"Yes. He's been all over the news. But we haven't seen what he looks like."

The lieutenant stood up and adjusted his jacket before resuming eye contact with me, "Well, Miss Perkins, I'm fairly certain that now you have."

I sat for a moment in silence, waiting for him to say more, but he didn't.

"Wait, what? You're saying the man from the video, the one who came in here and personally delivered it to me, is the Joker?" I gawked at him in disbelief.

"Unfortunately, that is precisely what I'm saying. Now, Miss Perkins, if what you have told me is true, that he knows your name and may have mentioned seeing you again, I will have an officer escort you home, and a patrol car set up outside of your home for a few days, simply as a precaution."

I couldn't find my words. My throat felt impossibly dry and I began shifting restlessly in my seat.

"Thank you for your help today, Miss Perkins. If you don't mind, Detective Mora here would like to speak with you. She has specialist training in trauma therapy and I think speaking with her before you leave would be to your benefit."

I nodded a yes at both Gordon and Mora.

"Great. Here's a card with my contact information on it if you think of anything else or have any questions." I reached for the card in his outstretched hand and nodded in understanding. "I'm sure this has been troubling for you, but rest assured we are taking this very seriously." He placed a warm hand on my arm in a gesture of comfort and my eyes nearly welled with tears. "Have a nice day, Miss Perkins."

"Thank you, you too." I finally managed to croak out. He offered me a small smile and nod of the head before he disappeared through the doorway and past the now dwindling crowd of crewmembers.

As the door once against clicked shut, I looked to Detective Mora. She smiled warmly at me. "Okay Andrea, let's start."


	3. Chapter 3

I spoke to Detective Mora for probably no more than thirty minutes before she ended our "session."

"Well, Andrea, I think that'll do for now." Detective Mora softly closed her notebook and looked me in the eyes. "You seem fine, but definitely shaken up. I'm going to recommend you get some rest, and please contact me if you have anything else to speak about." She stood up and gathered her jacket she had draped across the back of her chair and I stood with her. "That is Officer Lerner by the way" she motioned to the familiar officer standing with his back against the control room door, he nodded his head toward me in acknowledgment. I looked back to Mora and nodded. "He will be escorting you home and he and another officer will be rotating a patrol outside of your apartment building."

I gave her a small smile. "Thank you."

She smiled softly and nodded, pushing her chair into the nearest desk, "It was lovely meeting you, Andrea, and I wish it was under different circumstances."

I let out a small chuckle. "Yeah…me too."

Detective Mora slid her arms into her jacket gracefully and said goodbye before making her exit. Once alone, I looked to the officer who watched me from the doorway.

"Ready to go?" he asked.

"More than ready."

Officer Lerner led me through the station as my coworkers looked on in curiosity. I passed by Kathy who stood arms crossed speaking to another colleague, I think her superior. She made eye contact with me and offered a small smile and a wave. I smiled back politely before turning away and following the officer through the grand glass doors of the foyer and out into the street. It finally dawned on me that I wasn't even sure what the protocol was for something like this. Was I expected back at the station tomorrow morning? I suddenly felt incredibly anxious and exhausted, the emotional toll of the day finally setting in, likely delayed by the adrenaline that had pumped through my veins hours before. I trudged slowly behind the officer as he led me to the rear passenger door of the squad car parked along the sidewalk. Officer Lerner opened the door and I slid in, dropping myself into the leathery seat, warm from the sun streaming through the window. I felt so drained.

My eyes lazily followed the officer as he rounded the front of the squad car and slid smoothly into the drivers seat. I met his eyes in the rear view mirror, "Do you live alone Miss Perkins?"

"Yeah. I used to have a roommate but she moved out a few months ago." Becca was probably one of the worst roommates you could ask for. She never washed her dishes, was always late with rent money, and had loud sex with her boyfriend at stupid hours of the night, but I would've given a lot to have her there when I got home. Just some company so I wouldn't be alone. My parents aren't really an option since my mother died a few years ago and my dad moved out of state. We were never that close anyways, but I had definitely distanced myself when I moved away for school.

"Oh, alright. Well officer Green and I will keep you company from outside tonight." He smiled at me through the mirror and I left out a weak laugh.

"Thank you for this, really."

"Not a problem, Miss. Oh, by the way, what kind of locks do you have on your apartment door?"

"Uh…" I paused for a moment as I tried to decide if that was a strange question or not, "A deadbolt and a knob lock, I think".

"Ah, okay, okay. A deadlock is pretty secure, but you shouldn't need to worry about that anyways."

"I really hope not." The cruiser hit a bump and I rocked back and forth in my seat, the seatbelt tugging against my neck roughly. I sighed and fought with it a little.

"You'll be home soon, Miss Perkins." He looked at me again from the mirror.

"Thank god," I mumbled as I slumped against the window and closed my heavily eyelids.

I awoke to the sound of the cop clearing his throat, "Miss Perkins, we're here."

I blinked the sleep out of my eyes and adjusted my clothes as he made his way to my door to let me out. I thanked him earnestly as I slid out of my seat and hurried toward the familiar front doors of my building. I quickly unlocked the door and turned to wave goodbye to Officer Lerner before I disappeared from the doorway and made my way to the elevator doors.

The elevator felt like it was taking an eternity to come down and I tapped my foot impatiently. When it finally stopped on the ground floor, I slid in quickly and went straight for the close doors button. I watched the doors slowly slide shut and I suddenly felt panicked imagining him here, sliding in right before the doors sealed and tormenting me in the confines of this elevator. My pulse quickened and my heart beat wildly as the gap in the doors grew smaller and smaller until finally, it disappeared and I was left completely alone in the small metal room. To my surprise, instead of claustrophobia, I felt safe and calm.

 _He can't get me here._

However, despite my relief, or perhaps because of it, my hands still shook and I wondered if another appointment with Detective Mora might be a good idea.

I felt the elevator jolt upwards and watched as the small red number above the doors went up, floor by floor. I knew I was almost home safe as the number finally stopped on 9. The doors slid open unsteadily and I stepped into the empty hallway. I peered down the hall in either direction and listened for any sounds of life, but I both heard and saw nothing, and it reassured me. I quickly shuffled down the hall, my feet scuffing against the well-worn carpeting. My apartment building wasn't in the best shape, the wallpaper peeled up on its edges and the lights were dim, but my apartment itself was pretty good for someone still in University, especially one currently working a lightly paid internship. It was two bedrooms, one bathroom, a small eat in kitchen, and a living space big enough for two, comfortably. I'm sure I couldn't afford to live here alone if I wasn't in Gotham.

I stopped at my apartment door and struggled with the locks as my hands shook and I jostled the keys. Eventually I made it in, closing the door behind me tightly and triple checking the locks.

Sighing dramatically, I tossed my bag on the kitchen table, flicked on the closest lamp while kicking off my shoes and haphazardly flinging my jacket on the armchair. I dropped myself down onto the crunchy old sofa I bought from the thrift store two blocks away and felt my muscles finally relax as I sunk deeper and deeper into its worn in cushions. I dug my phone out of the back pocket of my shorts and checked for messages. None. Not a single text. I tossed it onto the coffee table to my left and turned onto my side, closing my eyes in the process.

I began to drift into that space where you feel yourself slipping into a dream yet also maintain some awareness of your physical environment, and when the sounds of footsteps down the hall resonated in my ears, I didn't know if it was real, or my imagination. Instantly, my muscles went tense. I couldn't move. I couldn't speak. That recognizable sickening feeling grew in my stomach. My chest was so tight, I could barely breathe. Was my mind playing tricks on me? I remained motionless, waiting to hear the sounds again.

The silence deafened me. I couldn't stand it. I wanted to sit up and look down the hall, but my body wouldn't let me. Sometimes this happened when I awoke from a nightmare in the middle of the night; too afraid to move even after realizing it was a dream. Maybe this was just that, a dream.

I stayed motionless for what felt like hours, trying to gather the courage to even peak over the back of the couch. By now, I was positive no one was in my apartment, but I still couldn't find the pluck to prove it to myself. I suddenly felt anger wash over me, anger that I had let this encounter and this man make me delusional with fear. Fueled by something akin to adrenaline, I finally pushed myself up off the seat of the couch, and feeling invincible, I stared unflinching into the room to my left.

 _God, no._

A scream caught in my throat and I could only gasp as my eyes landed on a figure lurking in my darkened kitchen.


	4. Chapter 4

(A/N: I hope you enjoy and thank you so much for the favourites, follows, and reviews! They mean a lot to me and makes writing this that much more worthwhile.)

He took a step forward, casting his face in the light of the single small lamp I had flicked on when I first walked in. My stomach dropped and my head spun.

 _The Joker._

He stood watching me, silently, from my kitchen doorway. I felt like I was going to be sick, right there on my thrift store sofa. His face was fully painted, just like in the video, only somehow more horrifying in person. The light from the lamp cast deep shadows on his face, intensifying the dark pits that were his eyes and distorting his already gnarled and twisted scars. He took another slow but methodical step forward and my body finally reacted with an intuitive counter-movement backwards. Unfortunately for me, that meant stumbling over the coffee table and crashing awkwardly to the ground. I panicked as I scrambled to my feet, tripping over myself. It was like one of those bad dreams where you're moving in slow motion as a monster approaches. Everything was so surreal.

Looking over my shoulder, I stalled-noticing he hadn't come any closer. He still stood at the threshold of the kitchen watching me, his head cocked to the side in curiosity and an expression of mild amusement plastered on his ghostly face. My stomach flip-flopped anxiously and I glanced from him to the door. He seemed to be equally distant from the door as I was, probably a bit farther, I guessed.

When I made eye contact with him again, I could see something in his face had changed. I could've sworn, somehow with a look, that he was _daring_ _me._ Daring me to make a run for it. A smile tugged at the corner of his lips. I quickly tried to measure his trajectory again. He had to turn around a corner, I had a straight shot…Maybe I could beat him. I mean, I wasn't a track star but I wasn't slow either. Either way, I didn't feel like waiting around for him to tell me what he was doing in my apartment. I took a test step forward and I watched as he seemed to tense, like all the muscles in his body were winding up. I likened it to the final crank of the handle on a jack in the box, to the moment before he explodes out and scares the shit out of you. In that instant, I was the frightened little girl who hesitates on the final crank, who squints her eyes in anticipation and tries to suppress the inevitable scream that rises in her throat.

And then suddenly I was running. I don't think it had even registered in my mind before it had registered in my body. I could see him explode out of the gate in my peripherals, a purple blur, but I kept going. I committed. The 20-meter distance felt like a marathon, but I couldn't stop my momentum quickly enough before I slammed into the door full force. My hands fumbled with the lock and doorknob but my palms felt drenched with sweat and my hands slid clumsily over the metal fittings. Likely not even an entire second passed before I felt his claws dig into the tender meat of my shoulders and yank me back, sending me tumbling to the floor. My left elbow smacked painfully off of the entrance's cheap tile floor. I cried out and grabbed it, the impact sending painful tingles up and down my entire arm. I reluctantly looked up at him in defeat, tears threatening. He positioned himself between the door and myself. He was daunting, dark and menacing. I felt hopeless.

Neither of us spoke and a heavy silence filled the apartment. The only sound I heard was the pounding of my own heart in my ears and the soft cries I tried and failed to suppress. He watched me for a moment longer before turning his attention to his jacket, readjusting himself.

"Get up."

I didn't move. My gaze wandered away from him and down to my lap, my hands shook uncontrollably and I tried to hide it.

"Hey." My head shot back up in his direction. "Are ya deaf? Get. Up.'"

The tone of his voice was serious and stern and reminiscent of the video.

 _The video…_

I had nearly forgotten why this all started. Images of the imitation Batman flashed through my mind. I felt sick. I felt angry. But most importantly, I felt fear, so I did what he said and I unsteadily got to my feet.

He approached me as I stood, his eyes fixated on me like I was a new toy. I had no idea. I watched his purple-gloved hand reach toward me and I felt the cool leather slide around my throat. I reached instinctively up and grabbed his wrist. His eyes narrowed in on my touch. He wasn't choking me, but I wasn't comfortable, if you can imagine. He again cocked his head and his eyes met mine for the nth time.

"Are you gonna try that again, Andy?"

My stomach burned when he spoke my name again, the first time since I knew his real identity.

I shook my head feverishly. I wasn't lying. I had no will to try again…at least not so soon.

"Good girl," he breathed into my face. His breath was not completely rancid, but not necessarily pleasant—a mixture of something like coffee and smoke.

His grip on my throat loosened and fell away as he crossed his arms over his chest. He leaned back, regarding me like some abstract painting.

"So, did ya miss me?"

A scoff of incredulity literally fell out of my mouth before I could stop myself. I winced as I waited for his reaction but none came. In fact his face didn't even change, yet his expression was not of displeasure. Truthfully, he didn't even seem that upset that I had made a run for it. In fact, judging by his mood now, I think he may have _liked_ it.

"Why are you here?" I found my voice and ignored his question.

"Aw, Doll. I thought we were friends? You did me a real big favour, after all." He tilted his head down, winking at me in the process.

My skin crawled.

He uncrossed his arms and moved toward me again. I stepped backwards right into the kitchen table behind me.

"I just wanted to check up on ya, see how you were doin'…" He paused deliberately for effect. "See If I scared you too much." He took another step closer, closing in the already small gap between us. My eyes zeroed in on his scars, mere inches from my face. I couldn't focus on anything else.

He grabbed my jaw painfully in his hand and turned my face from side to side, inspecting me while breaking my attention on his scars.

"You seem alright. Your eyes are a little red though, girly. Ya been cryin'?"

"No." I spat, suddenly angry and defensive.

"Hm, well that's too bad. But good on ya, doll. You're a tough one, huh? Keeping that chin up." He pushed his finger under my chin as he said it, forcing my head up. My mind was racing. I couldn't process everything that was happening.

"Anyway," He moved his hand away from me and up to brush his hair back out of his face. "I kinda thought I owed ya a personal thank you. Ya know, for all the help." I felt nauseated at the thought of helping him, especially after seeing what I saw on that video. "You really did exactly what I asked…You got me just the attention I wanted. Now Gotham has a face to a name, and I'm a star, sweetheart." He grinned devilishly and flexed his long, gloved fingers in excitement.

"But," he paused and leaned in, my back pressed painfully against the table. "Lets keep this little, uh, meeting? Let's keep it between us." I swallowed the lump in my throat and nodded aggressively. He smiled and I marveled as the scars seemed to ripple and twist in protest.

"Andy, I think you're a smart girl…" He paused dramatically, adding, "of course ignoring that little slip-up…"

My face burned embarrassedly and I felt a bullet of sweat trickle down from my forehead, yet I couldn't look away. He was so close and I felt so vulnerable and uncomfortable leaning back against the table. His arms, pinned down against the table on either side of me, trapped me like prison bars.

"But I want you to prove it".


	5. Chapter 5

(AN: I'm sorry for the long delay between chapters. I've been extremely busy with my Master's. Nonetheless, I hope you enjoy the chapter! Thanks as always for the reviews, favourites, and follows; they mean so much! Thanks to **Anna10473** , **Daydreamer003** , **Kyokkou** , **Jokerfan14** , and **kykyxstandler** for your lovely reviews of the last chapter :))

* * *

"I want you to prove it."

I shifted uncomfortably, the kitchen table digging into my back.

"What do you mean?"

His eyes rolled up, as if he was thinking.

"I want you to do me another favour."

He was so close to me now that his thighs pressed against the front of mine and I knew he could feel my legs trembling. I tried to still myself, but it was fruitless.

"What kind of favour?"

I felt beads of sweat trickle down the small of my back. The heat radiating off of his body felt like it was burning me. I tried to swallow the lump in my throat, imagining all the "favours" he had in store for me while praying for some space.

"I want you to work for me, from the inside."

I furrowed my brow in confusion.

"I don't know what you mean."

He smiled, amusedly.

"Let me lay it out for ya, toots." I frowned at the pet name. "You work at GCN, right?"

"Kind of but-" he cut me off.

"So you, lowly lil' Andy, will go back into work. It's gonna take a few days at least, but you're gonna go back to flying under the radar. A nobody in the station."

I silently watched him go on, incredulous.

"And then you're gonna wait for my call, or maybe I'll make another visit." He winked and my stomach turned.

"I need somebody in the station. Somebody no one's gonna suspect."

I shifted uncomfortably.

"Nobody's gonna think poor Andy, so traumatized from her run in with _the Joker_ , would ever be working _with_ him!" He snorted at his own thought before dipping his head in even closer "And there's just something about you I like."

Trying to ignore his last statement, I stared into the black pits that were his eyes and cleared my throat, "And if I refuse?"

He smiled shrewdly and took a small step backward, giving me breathing room, "If you have any sense kid, you won't".

 _What the fuck…How does he know I won't just call the cops as soon as he leaves?_

As if he read my mind, he again moved toward me, crawling back into my personal space like a predator toying with its prey.

"But, as we now know…" He licked his lips and stared down at me, "you're a feisty one. _SO_ …" He reached into the right hand pocket of his purple suit jacket, revealing a small, sharp looking blade, "Are you gonna need some convincing?"

My breath caught in my throat momentarily and my eyes followed the shifting blade clasped in his purple-gloved fingers.

"No."

"Good," he patted me on the cheek, "now don't say a w _ooo_ rd or ill come back when you're cozy in your sweet little bed with your 18 decorative pillows and slit your throat while you sleep."

I felt like I had been punched in the gut and my gaze fell toward my feet.

"We got a deal?"

I couldn't find my voice and my eyes remained locked on the curling and stained linoleum tile floor under my shaky feet. I felt him grow annoyed with my lack of response and he moved forward again, slinking into my space. His hand slithered up to my cheeks and he pushed my attention back toward him.

" _Do_ we have a deal?" He growled, his hot breath billowed into my face and assaulted my senses.

"Yes." I resigned.

He smiled in response, but the smile never met his eyes.

"In that case" he said in a cheerful tone, "I think we are _allllll_ done here!"

He took a step back and worked at readjusting his suit after our close encounter. As I watched, a sense of relief filled my belly at the realization that he seemed to be making his exit.

"Oh and by the way…" He paused dramatically, again pulling for my attention. "My ol' pal Officer Lerner gave me a heads up about your, uh, living situation." My face instantly fell and he feigned a concerned look, "Oh don't look so surprised doll face. The cops in this city aren't as loyal as you might think."

I suppose, like everyone in the city, I knew about the corruption in the Gotham Police Department, but not to what extent. Now, thanks to the Joker, I had my first real taste of it.

"Should I go to the window and give him a little wave? He knows I'm here." He continued.

I felt anger bubbling inside of me, ready to spill over. I scoffed and looked away, furious. I felt stupid, and not only because he was clearly trying to make me feel that way, but because I had placed any blind trust in that cop.

With my back turned to him, I listened as he finally started making his way toward the door, further and further away from me. My eyes nearly burned holes into the painting of a sunset hung on my wall as I strained my ears to translate his movements.

Unsurprisingly, he couldn't leave without any parting comments. "Andy, sugar…"  
I felt him turn toward my direction, "I'll know when you leave in the morning, when you come home in the afternoon, when you go to sleep at night and when you have that guilty late night snack." He stated everything in a singsong voice that somehow seemed to alleviate the terror. Nonetheless, goosebumps violently erupted over my skin at his words.

"So believe me when I tell ya it really is in your best interest to cooperate."

I couldn't physically give him a response, and he knew that. I listened to him shuffle around for a few moments longer, and then suddenly, he was gone.

When the door finally shut with a _click_ , I stood in the same spot, unable to find the courage to lift my heavy legs. It was only when I finally felt my legs start to give out that I resolved to move toward the sofa. I thought about locking the apartment door, but then thought _fuck it_ , instead. I felt my body collapse onto the loveseat and sat in silence on its prickly cushions. I listened to a mélange of the leaky faucet in the kitchen repetitively drip into the empty sink and the harsh sound of sirens blaring from the Gotham city streets below.

With nothing to distract me, I replayed the interaction over and over in my mind. When I thought about seeing him again. my stomach turned and I felt nauseous. I bent over, cradling my arms over my stomach, my hair cascading over my face like a curtain in my crumpled position. Drawing on a tip from my old therapy sessions, I closed my eyes and tried to take slow, long breaths.

Startled, I awoke in the fetal position on the couch, the city's nighttime light streaming in through the window and bathing the room in an eerie orange glow. I had barely unfurled myself before I was hit with a barrage of the day's memories. I sat on the edge of the sofa, feeling like shit and sick to my stomach. I wondered if maybe my body's reaction to emotional trauma had been sleep, a kind of self-induced coma.

Pushing myself up off of the couch, I slunk toward the apartment door and locked it anyways. In passing, I glanced at the digital clock on the oven. It read 1:30 am.

 _I slept longer than I thought…_

Slowly I made my way down the narrow hallway toward my bedroom. I flicked on the bedroom light and glanced around the room, half expecting him to be there. I shut the bedroom door and locked it behind me, shuffled toward my dresser and pulled out an oversized t-shirt to sleep comfortably in. Sluggishly, I pulled off the clothes from the day, hoping my anxieties would go with it. I pulled the soft shirt on and pulled back the blankets of my bed, moving some of the many pillows covering the comforter in the process. Suddenly I remembered his comments about my bed, about my _pillows._ He had been in here. I felt violated and in a burst of manic energy I ripped all of the pillows off of my bed, nearly screaming in the process as angry tears streamed from my eyes. The pillows scattered all over the floor and I slammed off the lights. Quickly crawling into bed, I covered my head in the blankets in an attempt to block everything out.

For an indeterminate amount of time I laid awake in unease, convinced every noise echoing through the apartment, however small, was him. I clenched my eyes shut and begged for sleep, and despite my earlier reprieve, it never came.


	6. Chapter 6

When the early morning light finally peaked through my bedroom window, I was already wide-awake. I lifted the comforter from over my head and peaked across the room toward the warm orange-pink sky beyond my apartment. I blinked instinctively when the light met my sore eyes, predictably irritated from a lack of sleep. The new day's light brought me much needed comfort from the night that preceded it, and it was only now that I felt something similar to safety. I closed my now heavy eyelids and my muscles finally relaxed as I felt myself drifting toward sleep.

It felt like only seconds had passed when I was jolted awake by my cell phone's obnoxious alarm. I groaned and pulled it from my bedside table. I hadn't remembered bringing it to bed, but here it was. I furiously tapped the screen to disable the alarm and sighed when the room again fell silent. I lifted the phone to my face and the lock screen stared back at me, notification-less. I groaned again, realizing that a lack of voicemail meant I likely was expected back at "work".

I rolled over, pulled the comforter off of me swiftly and sat on the edge of my bed, my hot feet pressed against the cool parquet flooring. Despite my much more calm demeanour, I had not for a singular moment forgotten about last night's events. Images of the Joker and the sounds of his voice played over and over in my mind like a broken record on an endless loop. A perpetual sick feeling settled in the pit of my stomach and I assumed I would likely feel this way for the rest of my potentially short life.

I groggily made my way to the small bathroom a few steps down the hallway and to the right of the bedroom. I closed the door tightly, making sure to lock it behind me, and turned on the shower. The water in such an old building always takes a minute to heat up so I let it idly run as I moved to get undressed. I caught a glimpse of my reflection in the mirror hung above the sink and grimaced, making note of my bloodshot eyes and the purple bags so prominent beneath them.

 _I guess I'll be packing on the concealer today._

Still watching myself in the mirror, I made a move to pull up the oversized sleep shirt and suddenly felt self-conscious, like I was being watched by a set of eyes other than my own-a feeling I was not particularly familiar with before last night. I glanced around the room, looking for anything out of the ordinary, but everything seemed the same. I noticed there was a tiny gap in the faded curtains that covered the small window, and drew them closer together. That seemed to give me some comfort and I continued to undress before quickly jumping from the vulnerable space of the open room into the confines of the tiny glass-encased shower.

Despite the fact that I was on track to be nearly 40 minutes early to work, I walked slightly hurried down the stairs of the apartment building and burst through the front doors rather unceremoniously. I couldn't stand to be in the apartment any longer, and as the cool autumn air of the city and the blaring sound of car horns met my senses, I felt at ease.

I made my way along the front walkway toward the sidewalk and my eyes wandered along the tired faces of the passersby and the slow movements of a city just waking up. Out of the corner of my eye I caught a glimpse of a police cruiser parked along the roadside adjacent to the building. I stopped in my tracks and made eye contact with the policeman at the wheel. Officer Lerner stared back at me, a small smirk plastered on his smug face. I felt my heartbeat pounding against my chest and heat rise to my unquestionably flushed cheeks. I felt like screaming. I felt like telling him what I really thought about him, about everything. But I didn't. Instead, I merely scowled at him before turning my head sharply and walking past the cruiser without a second glance.

I clenched and unclenched my fists as I stomped down the busying streets of downtown. To say I was irritated was an understatement; I felt betrayed and disillusioned by the powers put in place to protect me. What's worse, I felt helpless. As my feet pounded against the pavement in rhythm with the city's symphony of noises, I wracked my brain for ways out of my situation, but my thoughts were chaotic and my anxiety left me without focus.

I wiped away the sweat that clung to my brow and pulled out my phone to check the time. I groaned and rolled my eyes when I realized I was still nearly 30 minutes early with only 2 blocks to go. The last thing I wanted was to get there early and hang around in the station alone again. I hesitated for moment around a bus stop and gawked at the shops lining the streets. Since I had skipped breakfast, I decided to opt for a coffee at my usual spot just a few steps ahead.

I stepped into the familiar foyer and a wave of warm, cinnamon scented air washed over me. Breathing in deeply, I approached the register and admired the baked goods in the glass cases to the right. The familiar faced barista greeted me happily and took my usual order: a medium dark roast with cream. He was a young, fairly attractive guy, be-speckled and brunette, always with a hint of stubble tinting his cheeks. Nearly every time I come in I see him, and every time I wonder if he remembers me.

"Would you like anything else?"

"Um…" I hesitated for a moment, "Yeah, can I actually get a cinnamon bun too, please?"

"Yeah of course." He ducked under the glass to pluck one out, dropped it into the bag and handed it to me. "They're fresh out of the oven, you're lucky." He said with a wink. My unfortunate response was to let out a quiet giggle.

 _Nice one._

"Thank you." I finally said, grabbing the bag and handing him my cash.

"No problem. Have a great day." He smiled and it seemed genuine.

"Bye." I said awkwardly as I quickly retreated toward the door, a rosy flush warming my cheeks.

As I approached the GCN building, I tucked the paper bag holding the confectionary into my bag and took a sip of my coffee. I made note of several cars in the parking lot as I passed, one being Kathy's easily recognizable Beemer, and I was relieved. I slapped my key card over the lock's scanner and pushed open the heavy glass doors. I noticed Kathy immediately, sitting in a lounge chair in the building's lobby with an open book draped in her lap, but I also noticed someone else. Slumped over the front desk to my direct right was a tall lanky-looking man dressed entirely in black with his back turned to me. I instantly froze. He had on a black beanie and pieces of his blonde hair stuck out from the bottom. It was _him_. I was in complete and utter shock and I couldn't fathom that he had the audacity to come here again, not even 24 hours later. I felt my legs start to shake and my stomach drop. I looked desperately to Kathy, who seemed oblivious to the presence of both he and I. I tried to call for her but my voice was caught in my throat, like a nightmare. My attention again shifted back to him as he began to slowly turn toward me, drumming his fingers on the front desk nonchalantly as he did. My chest felt tight and I couldn't find my breath, and then suddenly he was facing me…and it wasn't him.

He was a younger man, probably in mid 20s or even late teens with kind green eyes that I noticed immediately.

"Hi" he said, acknowledging my presence and glancing at my key card before turning in the direction of Kathy.

"Kathy, where do you want the new iMacs?" He called to her from across the room.

I felt like collapsing to the ground and curling up into a ball. I could only image the look on my face when he turned around and I felt as all the skin on my body burned with embarrassment.

"Uhhhh…Put them in control room one, we can set them up later." Kathy called back to him and the boy nodded.

"Will do."

I watched him leave the room and quickly tried to find some composure, taking several deep breaths before straightening myself up.

 _Jesus, get a hold of yourself._

"Goodmorning, Andrea." Kathy called from across the room.

"Good morning, Kathy." I called back, steadying my voice as she waved me over.

"You're here early."

I smiled and forced out a little chuckle. "Yep." She stood as I came to meet her and touched my arm comfortingly.

"How are you doing today? I wasn't sure if I was going to see you."

I was still shaking but tried to feign a chill, rubbing my hands up and down my arms. "Well, I didn't have any calls from you so I assumed I should come in. Anyways, it wasn't doing me any good just sitting in my apartment." The memory of the Joker standing in my darkened apartment flashed through my mind and I felt suddenly very ill but tried my best to hide it.

Kathy nodded in understanding. "But you had an okay night? Pretty uneventful compared to the day, huh?" Kathy chuckled slightly at her 'funny' remark.

"Uh huh," I mumbled. "Pretty uneventful. " I repeated her words through clenched teeth, trying my best not to let the coffee that was rising in my throat make its way out onto the pristine tiled floor.

"Well that's good."

I nodded as Kathy led me the usual way passed the offices and executive lounges toward the sound stages, and then down the dark, soundproofed corridors to the editing rooms. The corridors were dim and narrow and as we turned down each new hallway I became more on edge, fully expecting him to step out of the shadows and make himself known at any moment. But, he didn't, and instead the day passed slowly.

Much to Kathy's dismay, the focus and interest I usually had in the work of the station seemed to take a back seat. I couldn't concentrate on her words and constantly asked her to repeat herself, effectively frustrating us both. When lunchtime came, I had no appetite and I offered the cinnamon roll from the morning to the boy dressed in black, which he happily accepted. I sat in silence, clicking through my phone in the lunchroom as conversation carried on around me.

On my walk home, I passed the police cruiser and didn't even cast a second glace, and when I made my way into the apartment expecting a repeat of yesterday, there was no one and I was alone. I spent the rest of the night on the couch watching TV with every light on, and no matter how loud I set the volume, I couldn't drown out my own incessant thoughts and the lingering fear implanted in my brain. Even as I laid down to sleep that night I couldn't quiet my unsettled mind, or my body and I was forced to acknowledge that the Joker was having a devastating impact on me physically and mentally.

But then the next day came and went uneventfully, and the next, and the next, and suddenly a week had passed and I still hadn't seen or heard a single thing from him. The first few days I had grown increasingly restless and paranoid. I barely slept or ate and my body felt the repercussions. However, on the morning of the 4th day, the police cruiser that I stalked by every morning and night had disappeared and as the 5th day came and went without a word, I felt myself moving on. Even my appetite improved, and I slept a full night without waking up drenched in sweat, screaming so hard my throat was sore in the morning. I began to feel like my self again, however...not quite fully. The overwhelming feelings of fear and anxiety that had plagued me for nearly a week now were replaced by something else that I couldn't name. Stranger yet, as the days continued to pass and I grew more and more sure he wouldn't return, this new feeling never faded. It wasn't until a week had come and gone, and the thick fog that had settled over my brain had finally dissipated that I recognized the feeling as something akin to disappointment, an epiphany that left me profoundly unsettled.

 _Did I want him to come back?_ _Am I_ _ **sad**_ _that he hasn't come?_ I asked myself questions I couldn't answer; at least, not yet.

* * *

(A/N: I hope you enjoyed and don't worry, the Joker will be back soon! A special thanks to **Anna10473** , **Golden Haired Ravenclaw,** and **Tai'shar Westernesse** for your lovely feedback of the last chapter!)


	7. Chapter 7

Over a week had passed since the rendezvous in my apartment and no matter how hard I tried to ignore it, I still felt that disconcerting feeling deep down in my gut. I attempted to rationalize that perhaps this response, however insane, stemmed from the loneliness that seemed to plague me in a city where I knew no one. I grew up a few hours outside of Gotham and moved into the city for school, leaving behind the friends I had made throughout elementary and high school. So far, I had struggled to make any close friends in University. Sure I had acquaintances, but no one I could call up for a girl's night or something. In fact, there had been stretches of weeks during my university career where I spoke to no one but myself. Maybe that does something to a person.

I'm sure it goes without saying, too, but working at GCN did nothing to help me forget about him either. In fact, I'm almost certain it made things worse. Every day I saw his face plastered on the papers that lined the newsstands as I walked to and from the station, and everyday he starred in the news that the station produced. Even when he didn't show up in person, he seemed to haunt me in every other way possible.

In an attempt to distract myself and alleviate my psyche, I even tried, though alarmingly out of character, to flirt with the barista I saw every morning. He told me his name was Mason and however awkward and off-putting I felt, he seemed receptive of my forced flirtations, even asking for my number and surprisingly inviting me to lunch on the upcoming weekend.

On Friday afternoon, he texted me to discuss our plans for the next day and I happily, and quickly, responded. He confirmed the time and place, and I told him it all sounded great and I couldn't wait. Our exchange was brief, but I strategized saving up my best conversational material for our actual "date". To be completely honest, I was proud I had finally pushed myself outside of my comfort zone and was getting to know someone on a different level. That night, as I laid down in my bed, my thoughts were stuck on Mason, and I felt content.

When the next day came, I spent nearly the entire morning getting ready. I curled my hair and put on makeup, although not too heavy-handed as it was a day date. After much debate and, undoubtedly, frustration, I finally settled on an appropriately casual outfit, took a few deep breaths and left my apartment. It was just before noon when I walked out the front doors of my building and made my way down the bustling downtown street. I was relieved Mason had suggested a Thai place a few blocks away and I didn't need to call a cab or struggle with public transit. I also didn't mind the walk; it gave me more time to gather myself.

It was a chilly autumn day and my eyes watered from a cold wind that bit at my cheeks and nose. My stomach flip-flopped nervously when I could see the familiar sign of the restaurant ahead and I silently prayed my watery eyes didn't ruin this morning's hard work. As I neared the entrance, I pulled my phone out of my pocket and glanced at the time. I was 10 minutes early, which was right on cue considering I was always early to everything.

Stuffing my phone back into my jacket pocket, I hesitated for a moment before walking up the short steps to the restaurant's door and sliding into the warm atmosphere of the cozy dining room. A waitress approached me and I told her I was meeting someone. She informed me he has not yet arrived, and happily seated me in a reserved booth near the back, in relative seclusion.

Unsurprisingly, the restaurant was buzzing on a Saturday at lunchtime. I listened to a few of the conversations going on around me as I looked through my phone to pass the time. A young couple beside me argued quietly about the Batman and I smiled to myself and tilted my head away, pretending not to eavesdrop. Joining in the various sounds filling the restaurant was now the nervous tapping of my foot on the tile floor as I scrolled through my Twitter feed.

When I had exhausted the resources of social media, I glanced up just in time to watch my server approach. I felt my cheeks flush with embarrassment when she shot me a sympathetic look.

"Would you like something to drink while you wait?" she asked gently, making me feel, if inadvertently, only a little pathetic.

"Um…yeah, sure. Can I just get a water, please?"

"Absolutely. I'll be right back." She gave me a kind smile before retreating toward the kitchen and I slumped a little in my seat. I grabbed my phone off of the table and checked the time. _12:15_. He was 15 minutes late, which wasn't terrible by any means but definitely had done its work to piss me. Sighing, I opened up the underutilized solitaire app on my phone and decided, however reluctantly, to give him 15 more minutes to show before heading home.

I was only halfway through my first game when I was interrupted by the sound of swift footsteps approaching my table. Feelings of anticipation swelled in my chest and a smile tugged as the corner of my lips as I worked to quickly close the app and join him in the real world. He didn't even hesitate at the threshold of the booth before slipping into the seat across from me, and when I finally lifted my attention to greet him, my voice caught in my throat.

The Joker sat across from me in plainclothes, his hands folded politely on the table between us. He was the same version of himself that I met that day over a week ago in the control room; scars exposed and features unpainted. He wore that same black baseball cap which somehow concealed him enough to enable him to go unnoticed.

"Sorry I kept ya waitin', babe." He grinned at me from across the table. "I know how punctual you always are."

I sat motionless, staring straight ahead, meeting his gaze. I felt like he could see my body shuddering in rhythm with my now thrashing heartbeat and I couldn't tear my eyes away from him, feeling hypnotized by his naked features. I'd finally become used to the images of his face layered in clown makeup, and seeing his bare scars again was beyond jarring.

"Where's Mason?" I finally croaked. My mouth felt incredibly dry and I wished I already had my water.

He tilted his head playfully, "Don't you know it's rude to talk about other men when you're on a date, Andy?"

I scoffed in disbelief, unsure of how to respond.

When he noticed the lingering look of concern plastered on my face, he rolled his eyes. "Don't worry about the pretty boy. He did his job."

His words triggered a thought that I wished it hadn't; that Mason, like Officer Lerner, was just another of the Joker's cronies and his "interest" in me was disingenuous. The presumption left my chest feeling a little tight.

"Did you miss me? I know I took a little longer than expected to visit…I got a little _busy_."

I could tell he was alluding to everything that had been credited to him in the news in the past week.

"Yeah, like killing the police commissioner?" I shot.

He let out a quiet, satisfied growl. "So you've been paying attention." He wasn't asking me, he was telling me.

"I work at a news station, I can't avoid it."

"Uh huh." He mumbled, smirking smugly.

Even if he was right, and I had been paying somewhat careful attention to any Joker-focused news, I wasn't willing to let him know that. My brain buzzed for a response and an indignant retort was forming on my lips when I noticed the waitress approaching our table out of my peripherals.

"Hey, you made it!" She joked as she came to a halt at our booth, placing my water in front of me. She smiled down at him warmly, but his unwavering gaze remained locked on me.

"Mhmm." He muttered.

I could tell she was a little put-off by his lackluster response and she shifted uncomfortably, "Well, can I get you anything to drink? Or are you ready to order?" She looked back and forth between us expectedly.

"Hmm…I just don't know. Are you ready to order, _Sweetheart_?" He said, his voice dripping with duplicity.

I let out a small uncomfortable laugh. "You know, I'm suddenly not feeling well. Can I just get a tea please?"

"Of course. And you?" She turned her attention back to him.

"Ask me again in 15 minutes."

"Ooohkay." She said, her tone steeped in annoyance, "I'll be back."

He rolled his eyes as she walked away. "Can't we get _any_ privacy here?" He said melodramatically.

I sighed and leaned back in my seat, waiting for whatever was coming next. He noticed my distance and followed suit, leaning in closer toward me across the table. I was thankful for the barrier between us.

"I'm gonna need that favor now." He said in a low voice.

 _Ah, there it is. The favor._

I was filled with a sense of dread, "What is it?"

"Don't _worrrrry_ , Andy. It's simple. I'm gonna make a special call into the station on Tuesday, and I'm gonna need you to be there to relay it to the right people."

I wrinkled my brow, confused. "What do you think I _do_ at GCN?"

"I don't _care_ what you do, I just want you to _do_ it." He tapped his long, spindly, stained fingers on the table in what I assumed was growing irritation.

My gaze moved from his hands to his face and more specifically, his scars. I could see them shift and twist as he impatiently waited for my response. They weren't nearly as intimidating without all the makeup.

"I'll try."

"That's more like it." He smiled broadly and his scars stretched and wrinkled in protest. He reached across the table and patted my cheek and I somehow managed to suppress the urge to jerk away.

"Anyways, I gotta get goin'." He said, checking his nonexistent watch and moving to stand.

"Oh…so soon?" I said, feigning disappointment, and my pluckiness surprised even me.

He looked up with raised eyebrows and grinned. "I'll be in touch soon…and I'm sure our next meeting will be _much_ longer." He adjusted his hat and winked at me. I looked away, embarrassed.

"Ah…" He hesitated for a moment, shoving his hand into his front pant pocket. "Let me pay for your, uh, tea…like a gentleman." He said, dumping a handful of change on the table in front of me. I didn't say thanks, and he turned on his heels and left without another word.

My eyes followed him until he was out of sight. To my surprise, tears welled in my eyes as feelings of relief overwhelmed me and I let out a small laugh. I put my head in my hands and took several deep breaths. When I heard footsteps approach my table again I felt panic until I looked up and saw the server coming over with my tea. I furiously wiped my watery eyes and smiled as best as I could as she came to a stop. She smiled down at me, that same look of sympathy as before plastered on her face, but I didn't care this time.

"Is he coming back?" She asked.

"I don't think so." I replied, looking back toward the door.

"I hope you don't mind me saying…but the guy seemed like an asshole." She said, gently placing the tea in front of me.

I laughed. "Yeah."

I sat and finished my tea alone.

(A/N: Hope this was okay! Thank you so much to **kykyxstandler** and **Argalii** for your kind reviews of the last chapter!)


	8. Chapter 8

I walked with my head down and my ear buds in as I made my way home from my "date." The music they blasted was loud, barraging my eardrums in an attempt to drown out some of my inevitably anxious thoughts. Was he going to contact me again before I was supposed to do the job? How would he even contact me? How did he want me to relay the phone call? My thoughts swirled amongst a sea of limitless question.

I wracked my brain for answers the entire way up the elevator to my apartment. I knew the engineers in Control Room 1 dealt with any call-ins, if there ever were any. Phone-ins during a live GCN newscast weren't necessarily rare, but were very strictly planned, and usually rehearsed for segments on topics like politics, candidates for upcoming elections and their platform issues. Feelings of anxiety churned in my stomach as I tried to formulate how I was going to do all this, and all as inconspicuously as possible. Why couldn't I have asked any of this when he was right in front of me?

That night and the next were filled with restless sleep. On Saturday, as I laid awake in bed amongst my fortress of blankets and pillows, I ruminated on the thought of how this seemed somehow related to just this past summer and the lead up to my internship. The stress of repeated interviews and work I had to do to compete for the position resulted in many a sleepless night and little to no appetite. I laughed to myself about how menial that all seemed now.

On Sunday I was forced to leave my apartment to buy groceries, a verdict I came to when opening my fridge to scrounge myself breakfast and bottles of condiments and a spoiled milk carton greeted me tragically. I settled for an unsatisfactory granola bar to tide me over and got ready in a hurry, hoping to avoid the inevitable Sunday churchgoer rush.

I strolled to the small market in the building directly beside my apartment. It was very cozy, and very familiar. The shopkeeper, an older man, usually always greeted me happily when I brought my stuff up to the till.

I grabbed a handbasket at the entrance and made my way lazily down the aisles, tossing a few fruits and vegetables from a slim selection into my basket as I passed. I was in the process of picking out a new cereal to try when I felt a buzzing in my jacket pocket. Curious, I reached in and plucked out my vibrating phone, clicking the home button instinctively. A single text message brightly illuminated the lock screen. It was from an unknown number and it only read one word: "tomorrow." I stared at it, puzzled.

"Tomorrow?" I wondered aloud.

I read over the number more than once, and despite it being a Gotham city area code, it was definitely unfamiliar to me. I even copied it into the browser search to see if anything would come up, but there was nothing. That familiar feeling of discomfit settled in my stomach and I knew it could only somehow be from him. I assumed it meant the call would be coming tomorrow and I swallowed the lump in my throat.

I couldn't tear my eyes away from my phone screen. _How did he get my number?_ I frowned deeply when I recognized the likelihood that someone in the police force gave it to him.

 _Should I reply?_ I shifted awkwardly from foot to foot and glanced around the aisle as I mulled it over. _No._

I finally re-locked the phone and tucked it into my pocket. Sighing in resignation, and now not the least bit hungry, I grabbed a few more things before I made my way up to the checkout.

As I dropped the items onto the conveyor belt, the friendly-faced man beamed at me from behind the counter, "Hi Honey, I haven't seen you in a while! How are you?"

Something in my face must've given me away because his face fell before I could even get a word out.

"Hey, you alright?"

I smiled as genuinely as I possibly could and forced out a small laugh, "Oh, yeah, I'm fine! Just been a little sick lately."

"Oh, okay," He said as he packed up my bags, his face still plainly showing a look of concern.

My hands shook slightly as I swiped my debit card and when I noticed his eyes lingering on them, I feigned being cold. I tried to avoid too much eye contact, as if the look in my eyes would somehow tell him everything I couldn't. When he handed me my receipt, I took it without hesitation, unconsciously rushing.

"Well, feel better soon, sweetheart. You should try the chicken soup from Dave's across the street if you can. It'll cure just about anything."

His comment slowed me a little. This time my smile was genuine and his kindness temporally made me disregard my predicament.

"Thank you, maybe I will."

He nodded and waved me goodbye before I turned and made my way out the door and back to the asylum of my apartment.

* * *

Dragging myself out of bed the next morning was torturous. All I wanted to do was call into work sick, curl up in my bed and never leave it again, but I knew that wasn't really an option.

I checked my phone feverishly as I got ready, expecting some kind of follow up text, but one never came. As I chewed my soggy breakfast cereal, I tried to strategize how I would relay the call, but truthfully I had no fucking idea what I was going to do. As I put my empty bowl in the sink I prayed that the day would be slow and I would have time to myself to figure it all out, without Kathy's inquisitive eye.

Just before 9:00 a.m I pushed my way through the heavy glass doors of GCN and was met with an overwhelming barrage of sound and movement. I was shocked to find the building absolutely teeming with people, rushing to and from the soundstage and god knows where.

 _Oh god…what now?_

I stood still, nearly hypnotized by the disarray as my eyes scanned the room for a familiar face. A women suddenly flashed by in front of me, passing by me in a rush without a glance, as if I didn't exist. It was Kathy. She hadn't even noticed me standing there, right in front of her.

"Kathy!" I cried after her and she screeched to a halt and pivoted on her heels to face me, an exasperated look on her face.

"Oh, Andrea." Her face changed from annoyance to neutrality. "Listen it's kinda crazy here if you haven't noticed, so I won't be with you-"

"Yeah, what's going on?" I asked, interrupting her.

"A guy named Coleman Reese is on the show claiming he knows the Batman's _real_ identity. He wants to reveal it on air with Mike." She said, rolling her eyes.

I didn't even know what to say as I processed this new development. I could only stare at her, shaking my head in disbelief.

"This is probably bullshit but it's making for good t.v. " She said, gesturing to the ongoing pandemonium.

"Anyway, I left some paperwork in the back office for you to do if you feel so inclined. Otherwise, you're free to observe the chaos." She laughed.

"Oh-Okay." I stuttered.

"Great, talk later okay?" Kathy said, placing her hand on my arm and squeezing softly before again turning on her heels and hustling away in the direction of the control rooms.

I stood for a moment alone, watching her disappear amongst the shifting schools of people and I wondered if what I was about to do would somehow fuck Kathy over. An undeniable feeling of guilt nestled in the pit of my stomach and I tried not to let myself become overwhelmed with absolute disparity. Focusing instead on the task at hand, I headed off in the same direction.

I pushed my way along the narrow halls and into Control Room 1, which was unreasonably busy, loud, and discernibly claustrophobic. I pushed myself against the carpeted wall beside the door, trying to go as unnoticed as possible, and scanned the room which was in such absolute disarray that I was positive if I had bled out on the floor in the middle of it all, people would've just stepped over my body.

My eyes settled on the large digital monitors lighting up the room with its broadcast of Mike Engel and a small, smug-faced ginger-haired man in tense conversation.

 _Coleman Reese,_ I presumed.

I swallowed hard and looked to the left side of the room where I knew the phone-in switchboard to be. Only one guy sat in front of it, operating whatever switches were in the surrounding area. I sighed in annoyance as I tried to strategize how I could insinuate myself into the situation without appearing too out of place. I could feel my legs start to shake in my nervousness and the feeling transported me back to the day I met _him_ in this exact room. Despite only being a few weeks, I felt like I had aged years since. I closed my eyes tightly and took a deep breath.

 _Get in and get out._

Slowly, I approached the man seated at the board and tried to calm myself. As I came to a halt beside him, I cleared my throat. He turned toward me, his eyes furrowed a little in confusion and he half-removed his headset.

"Yeah?"

"Hey…" I drew out the word as my eyes wandered toward his nametag, "Rick!" I smiled as sweetly as I could and he merely stared back at me, a blank expression plastered on his face.

"Kathy told me to come get you, it's an emergency. Apparently she needs some help in the, uh, sound stage."

 _Wow_. I could feel myself cringing _. That's the best you could do, Andrea?_

"Kathy needs help from _me_ in the _sound stage_?" He sounded skeptical and despite my hesitation to keep this up, I dedicated myself to the lie.

"Yeah, she asked specifically for you. I'm really not sure what's up, but I can take over for you. It's not a big deal." I said, bouncing from foot to foot nervously.

Rick looked at me puzzled for a moment longer before sighing and tossing his headset onto the board.

"Alright, I'll be back in a bit."

"Ok, great!" I strained a smile as he passed me by and watched as he exited the room before I rushed into the recently unoccupied desk chair, still warm from Rick, and my face shifted into my newly signature frown. I clamored for the headset and pulled it onto my head as I turned my attention to the actual digital board. There was no chance the phone lines would be on, I would have to manually switch them on myself, which I had only done once. My eyes scanned the keys, knobs and screens and I tinkered with a few things until I finally heard that familiar dial tone resonate through the headset and into my ears. A feeling of pride triggered the corners of my mouth to turn up in a satisfied grin, which bothered me when I quickly reminded myself of why I was doing what I was doing.

Focusing, I pushing the thought out of my mind, put the board on hold, and glanced at the clock on the monitor in front of me. I gave myself a 15-minute window before Rick got to Kathy and realized I was lying. Turning back to the switchboard, I could feel my heartbeat hammering wildly in my chest as I stared at the unlit signals before me, waiting for the blinking beacon that signaled my potential freedom, or impending doom.

As time continued to pass without a call, I fell back on my familiar patterns and tapped my foot impatiently on the carpeted floor as I tried to take deep breaths. I glanced at the people bustling around me, so occupied with the current events that no one gave me a second look, or a first for that matter, and I felt somewhat at ease thanks to my anonymity.

I was ripped from my momentary calm by an obnoxious beeping in the headset, the sound that notified an incoming call. I was suddenly overcome with a sick feeling in my stomach and I had to resist the urge to retch with everything I had. I lifted my shaking hand toward the answer button on the first available line and cleared my dry throat.

I just listened for a moment unable to find my voice, but when I heard nothing on the other end, I finally spoke. "Hello?"

"Hi, is this GCN? I gotta good story about the Batman I'm willing to sell."

"Uh…" I hesitated, caught completely off guard by this random caller. "Sir, we are not taking call-ins for the segment right now. If you want to contact GCN with information, you've called the wrong hotline. Thanks."

"Okay bu-" I hung up on him, cutting him off.

I sat for a moment in silence, just staring at the screen trying to process the moment. My eyes instinctively traveled toward the clock where I noticed nearly 12 minutes had passed. I groaned in annoyance and noticed, out of my peripherals, the guy to my right glance in my direction. Casually I lifted my hand to my face and dipped my head away from him, trying to maintain my non-existent rapport.

Time was running out and I was drowning in the anxious thoughts of what would happen if I couldn't do what he asked. Not more than a moment passed before the sound barraged my ears again and I realized another call was coming in. With less urgency but definitely still panic, I turned again to the monitor and gaped at the blinking notification. This time, sick of the suspense, I tapped the next line quickly, without overthinking.

"Hi, this is GCN." I greeted, my voice wavering only the slightest bit.

"Hell- _o_ , Andy."

* * *

(A/N: I hope you enjoyed the chapter! I'm sorry it took so long to post. A very special thanks to **kykyxstandler** , **vanessaserrato** , **tsohg a ma i** , **LaurenA007** , **Anna10473** , **Guest** , **KC** , **rose** , **BSparrow** , and **Tired-Mommy74** for your kind reviews and words of encouragement. It means so much to me and makes me want to continue to work hard on this story. Thank you also to those of you who have favourited and followed this story!)


	9. Chapter 9

"Hell- _o_ , Andy."

I tried to respond but my voice wouldn't come and I sat silently, entranced by the soft static hum coming from the other end of the phone.

"Andyyy…" He called to me from the other side of the line, interrupting my fleeting moment of peace.

"I'm here." I choked out, finally.

"Theeeere she is," He purred, and I cringed.

"Gonna need you to patch me in now, dollface."

"Um…" I hesitated and looked around at the controls lit up before me and mentally rehearsed the sequence of events. When I went to reach toward the panel in front of me, I had to pry my hands, which clung like claws, off of the arms of the chair. I flexed my cramping fingers.

"Okay…" my voice still shook. "I've got it. Just wait until after the beep." I instructed and found myself pausing for half a second when he didn't speak. "I'm hanging up now."

"Oh oh oh oh, one more thing Andy…"

My twitching finger hesitated over the glowing button.

"You and I, we aren't quite finished yet."

My face fell.

"What do you mean?" Despite my hopeless tenor, I noticed a familiar feeling bourgeoning in my chest.

"You and I have a lot of fun together, I'm not sure I'm ready to let you off the ride."

My hands trembled and I let out a few shuddering breaths, but I said nothing in response.

"I'll see ya in a bit."

When I motioned to speak and prod him further, the door to the room flung open and in walked Rick. In what felt like light speed, my hand slammed onto the button that passed the Joker's call through to the soundstage, now unmediated. Without hesitation, I flung off my headset and slid from my seat, slinking around the nearest corner and behind a few monitors. I watched from behind my barrier as Rick rushed over to the controls, but not toward me. As he approached the desk, he glanced around the room expectedly and I dipped down further when his line of sight nearly met mine. My heartbeat thrashed wildly against the cage that is my chest and as I moved to peer from the side of a monitor, I stopped.

"Who is this?" I heard Mike Engel ask and my head snapped up toward the monitor in front of me.

An abrupt hush fell over the room and his unnerving voice split through the eerie silence.

"I had a vision of a world without Batman…"

I felt my whole body go numb, but I knew I didn't have time to stick around and listen to the Joker's speech. I knew I had to leave now, or never.

Pushing through near crippling anxiety, I peered around the side of the nearest monitor. Rick stood before me, his eyes were wide and fixed on one of several glowing screens, his mouth agape in shock or horror, or both. My eyes danced feverishly around the room and I quickly noted much of the same on the faces of the others. Taking advantage of the distraction, I carefully slithered behind the monitors and stole away toward the door as inconspicuously as possible, his voice burning in my ears as I went.

I heard nothing and somehow everything as I sprinted down the winding dark corridors. People passed me by in a blur, their faces lost in my flashing peripherals. I had to leave. I had to get the fuck out of there before they knew I had anything to do with it. I also knew the Joker wouldn't be particularly happy with me if he knew I had stuck around for questioning.

As I burst through the hallway doors and into the threshold of the lobby, I came to a halt.

 _Did I just hear-_

Everything around me exploded like a bomb and I was suddenly caught in a frenzy of screaming, crying people. Most people went racing for the doors out of GCN, but some, worryingly, rushed in the direction of the soundstage.

The words that had caused such havoc resonated from the speakers all around me, and the frozen, shocked face of Mr. Reece stared back at me from the TV screens that seemed to line every inch of the GCN lobby.

"If Coleman Reece isn't dead in 60 minutes, then I blow up a hospital."

I stood, disoriented amid the chaos as his threat echoed in my mind.

 _Blow up…a_ _ **hospital**_ _._

My eyes began to well with tears before I could even think to try and stop myself and I felt sick to my stomach, a sickness that now seemed to have reached a crescendo. My legs trembled and I slumped to the ground, my eyes fixated on the tile floor before me. People jostled me roughly as they flew passed toward the doors, but I barely noticed. Instead, I sat motionless, held down by the weight of a heart heavy with shame and regret.

I was complicit-complicit in the murder of possibly hundreds, but at minimum, the death of Mr. Reece. What was I supposed to do?

 _I'm a murderer._

I didn't mean to hurt anyone. I had just felt trapped-like I didn't have any other choice. Corruption had terrified me into submission, and yet as I continued to try to convince myself of my faultlessness, I couldn't block from my mind the notion that rang louder than the shrieking from the crowds.

 _I'm a murderer._

And then I felt myself running. I didn't even remember standing up, but there I was, running through the lobby and bursting through the front glass doors, pushing passed the swarm of people that had begun feverishly gathering outside of GCN. Adrenaline surging, I forced my way through the horde and burst momentously into the free open air. As I ran, I passed the familiar, now tainted, coffee shop and Thai food place, and I didn't stop. I couldn't. My legs and my lungs burned agonizingly, but it felt right, like they should burn. I deserved it. I deserved more.

I'd left my jacket at GCN and the air was cold and it bit at my skin, but I didn't care. Sprinting down a crosswalk, I dodged oncoming traffic and continued. I didn't know what to do, or where I was going, and I couldn't think straight as I ran. My heartbeat pounded in my ears, my throat stung, and my chest heaved as I gasped desperately for air.

I couldn't tell how long I had been running when I rounded a random street corner and my body ultimately forced me to stop. My legs buckled feebly beneath me for the second time today and I knelt, defeated, on the sidewalk. My knees and hands stung against the cold cement and I coughed violently, my lungs feeling as though they could burst. Sweat dripped down the sides of my face and I felt its faint tickle as it slid down my back, beneath the looseness of my t-shirt. I shivered uncontrollably and lifted my hand to wipe away the hair that clung to my face and the sweat from my eyes.

After a moment of catching my breath, I surveyed my surroundings, finding myself in front of a semi-derelict bar. Peaking through the dirty, foggy window at eyelevel, I watched voyeuristically at the few patrons inside, all fixated on the TV that hung on the wall. To my dismay, but not my surprise, the chaos I had just left behind played out on the screen. I couldn't escape this horror show no matter how fast or far I seemed to run. I watched in horror when I could make out images of emergency personnel evacuating patients from the hospitals, escorting out people strapped to stretchers, those barely able to walk, mother's holding their newborn infants. I shook with anger, but despite my disgust, I couldn't look away.

My eyes were still fixed on the screen when the broadcasted images shifted abruptly. Instead of images of Gotham General in chaos, I could instead make out shaky camera shots of a terrified Coleman Reece and, to my disbelief… _another_ familiar face. I squinted and shuffled myself closer to the grimy glass, trying to get a better look. Although blurred in movement, I could make out his dark, square framed glasses and thick moustache.

"Lieutenant Gordon." I whispered his name to myself.

I sat nearly in a trance as I recalled his empathetic manner and the subtle comfort he had offered me, a feeling I had yet to feel again since. The memory now seemed so distant, but as I watched him on the screen, escorting Coleman Reece through the threatening crowds, I knew exactly what I had to do. I had to tell him. I had to confess to what I had become involved in, no matter how coerced I may have felt.

I pushed myself up using the dirty windowsill and, leaning against the side of the old brick building, slid along the wall into the secluded space that formed the alleyway. I pulled my phone from my pocket and stared at the screen. My hands shook as I searched for his number in my phone, something I took the liberty of doing at some point in the early stages of my trauma. I took several deep breaths as a scrolled, trying to calm my nerves although recognizing it would likely show in my voice anyway. I delayed for a moment, silently thinking over my confession, what exactly I would say and how I would justify what I had done. My explanation seemed messy when I mulled it over, and I knew it was and that what I had done was nearly irrational, but it was the truth. Finally, I came to Gordon's name and just as my finger met the smoothness of the call button on the phone's screen, I felt an explosion in the back of my head and the already dim world around me suddenly went black.

(A/N: Sorry the chapter is so short! I just wanted to get an update out sooner rather than later. I hope you like it! Thanks so much to **Anna10473** , **SpiritWolf** , **vanessaserrato** , and **kykyxstandler** for your kind reviews.)


End file.
